


Defying gravity

by Flaminea



Series: The Cousland King and Ryan "Prince Charming" Hawke [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Character Development, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Inquisition Agents (Dragon Age), Llomerryn, Male-Female Friendship, Smuggling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 03:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5401802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flaminea/pseuds/Flaminea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zevran and Isabela have history: they've know each other since before the Blight started. They've been lovers, partners in crime and now they're both Inquisition's agents, therefore colleagues. </p><p>But time changes people, and when Ryan Hawke's death hits her hard he finds in him what she had never thought of: a friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Defying gravity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mosomacilany](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosomacilany/gifts).



> Christmas is nearing day by day, so...
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> **  
> _Merry Christmas, mosomacilany!_  
>   
> 
> I hope you will enjoy it :)

The black light of a new moon was shining on Llomerryn's sea. Everyone else would have called it pitch dark: not Isabela. She had sailed along the island's outline enough to have printed every single detail of it in her brain. Every rock, every shoal and their position. Whoever was able to navigate Llomerryn's border during a new moon was known as admiral amongst the island's residents and its habitue. A non-written rule allowed every admiral to claim for himself, or herself a cave or a specific zone of the coast as a private haven. Any man who had trespassed that boundaries would not have been mourned, should he fall under a blade and return ashore as a corpse.  
Isabela didn't care for that title as much as a younger version of her would have, but that night she thanked Llommreyn's unwritten laws: they were the reason why she was being left in peace. Alone in her cave, with the sole company of the sound of the waves crashing on the sand, the wet sand under her feet the best brandy she had managed to find and a lantern, she was free to mourn him. Admiral Isabela uncorked the bottle, smelling the brandy's aroma briefly. Ryan Hawke was not one for brandy or alcohol in general, but he had always told her to drink the good stuff if she wished to. Especially when she aimed to get drunk. Without thinking, she swallowed a long sip. She waited for the beverage to burn her throat, run right to her head and water down all those memories of her old friend. She closed her eyes, savoring the liquor, but they looked even more lively instead. Somewhere between angry and amazed, Isabela threw the bottle against the rocks, crushing it in the process. Those memories, they wouldn't go away. And apparently she was drunker with them than she could have been with any liquor. Sighing, she placed her elbows on her knees, hiding her face into her hands. All she wanted was to find comfort as she used to when she was younger, years ago. Back then, a good bottle of brandy, a duel, a man's skin on hers and the waves lapping at their ankles would have been enough. 

A sudden sound reached her ears. Feet on the pebbles she had covered the cave's entrance with, just to be sure that no one was so stupid to enter her space. A glimpse of the old Isabela, the one who kept on keeping her alive and successful on Llomerryn, showed up. She turned towards the entrance: the cave was dark, her lantern didn't light up its entrance, but she knew every inch of that haven. Heck, she could have pointed exactly at the foreshore, without having to actually see it. Only one man could have been stupid enough to come bothering her. Someone who felt he could defy her. Her hand found one of the throwing knives she kept inside her boots: she knew exactly where the borders of the cave were, so she twitched her wrist in order to have the knife hit exactly where she meant to. When the weapon hit the hard rock of the entrance, Isabela smiled briefly. She was still the best knife thrower of the whole island. 

“Don't ever think I missed, Ianto. That was a warning. For the millionth time, no, I'm not interested in a partnership. I don't sell slaves, so shove your proposal right up your ass, and if you don't want to watch your prick drop blood instead of your precious jizz crawl back into the hole you came from” Isabela hissed, without even standing up. However, she was already toying with another knife, just in case. The man was persistent, and if he had gathered up enough courage to venture as far as her “door” perhaps he was also determined to treat the matter roughly. 

The sound that filled the air took her completely by surprise. It wasn't Ianto's voice, nor someone walking away. It was a voice embroidered with an Antivan accent. A voice she knew only too well. “Ah, my dear Isabela. I see you're still the queen of the Eastern seas and the better blade of Llomerryn. Just like old times.” 

In front of her incredulous eyes, Zevan appeared. As he got nearer, Isabela noticed how her movements were still flowing, his steps the one of a powerful assassin: but once the lantern's light had enlightened his face, she could see the signs of time passing too. Elves never change, they said: and yet his face was the one of a man who had me and defeated his worst nightmare. Into his eyes gleamed a weird awareness, different both from a careless attitude and the coldness of an assassin. His smile, though, wiped away the past written all over his face. “Well, except for the liquor, of course. In our old times, we would have enjoyed a good bottle. And perhaps” the curve of his smile acquired a naughty quality as he sat by her side “have had some amazing sex.”

Without a word, Isabela kept contemplating the Antivan's face. She took her time, and to her surprise he didn't urge her to talk, nor he asked her what was wrong. Her old self would have offered a saucy reply and winked at him. She didn't.  
“You're not here for the sex, Zevran. We both know that the charming Black Shadow don't need to come to Llomerryn to get a good laid. Ladies and men alike have always gathered at your side.”

Zevran turned to smile at her again. This time, however, it was a friendly one, without any allusion. She was half expecting him to ignore that serious turn in the conversation when he finally spoke. “You're right. I didn't come here for the sex, Isabela.” He paused, staring at her, a seriousness in his eyes she had never seen before. “I've seen you fight during our last raid. You slaughtered the Inquisition's enemies as if they were your mother or that bastard of Luis. While you may be reckless in your everyday life, you're a schemer in battle”. Zevran covered her hand with his. “I thought you could use a friend, after having lost one.”  
Isabela's tongue was tied, just like it had been the day Hawke had left her and confessed her how he had slept with Merrill. That time, jealousy and betrayal had made her shut off all her feelings. Or at least, had made her try to. That memory strengthened her grief: Hawke was dead. But Zevran's touch felt reassuring, quiet. Calming. She inhaled, fighting her own tears. “I suppose we can say we're friends. After all, we have history, don't we?”

Zevran patted her hand in a sort of playful gesture. No doubt he had noticed her collapsing morale, and he was doing his best to keep her from drowning in it. “Now now, you're underrating me. To be fair, I'm the one who turned a married, rebellious woman just like any other into a pirate queen. I would go as far as say that I saved your ass.”

He smelled and sounded like her own past. And all in all, he was the very epitome of what she had been. So Isabella laughed, and that laugh freed her mind from all that darkness. At least for a moment. When she looked at the Antivan again, though, a half smile still on her lips, she was stricken with melancholy. “Oh, Zev. I miss it so much.”. She sighed, looking at the sea in the distance. She couldn't see its waves, but she could hear its music. A tune she had danced to for many, many years. She stood, staring at the dark, listening to that known, magical tune. “I was so young and wild. Innocent as only someone who can still catch his dream simply by reaching out and those dreams were enough. I still remember my first time on the Siren's Call, how the sun crowned the sea in gold as it was setting. Back then, the sea seemed a whole new kingdom and the perfect companion for the life of adventures I dreamed of.” Aware of Zevran's presence by her side, she didn't turn. She smelled that salty smell only the nostrils of who had lived on the water could detect. “It's all his damn fault, you know? It's all Ryan Hawke's fault.” She exclaimed it without rage, without resentment. 

For a while, the couple fell silent. They both listened to their own thoughts.  
And then Zevran spoke. “That's what they do, dear Isabela. They're not called Hero, or Champion, just because they chopped off the head of an Archdemon, an Arishok or a possessed Knight-Commander. They change the world, and they change the ones who tag along even more.”

The pirate queen remained silent. That was a story she knew only too well, and that was about far more than returning a lost tome. The Hero had become Ferelden's King after the fifth Blight, so his name had resonated all over Thedas. Dane Cousland, the fallen noble who had saved the whole damn world and had become a King, restoring the Cousland family. He was probably a role model for every ambitious kid and the one Hero who would have been remembered for his sudden, weird disappearance. But Zevran had known him from the start. To him, Dane Cousland was much more than that. 

“Dane knew how to enjoy life, you know? He was handsome and he knew it well. When Grey Wardens regained their place in the people's heart, he led to bed more than one fascinated maiden and even some young men. And he enjoyed it, because his morals were pretty loose on the matter. He loved drinking and eating well. In a way he was like me, Isabela” Zevran began. His voice, spiced with his Antivan accent, was the one of a storyteller: warm enough to keep his listener interested. “He was merely indulging in what he thought was his birthright. But when it came to real morals..” Zevran shook his head “he was nothing like me. He has gone a long way to save the unsavable, and he accepted no defeat. He was cruel in taking his vengeance, but he always tried to be as merciful as he could be. And the fact that he spared me is proof of it. In time, I learned to respect him, he won my loyalty. So, I started thinking how Dane was the enhanced version of me. When he fought the Crows to ensure me my freedom, I began wondering if it was possible to be me without having to go through another Rinna tragedy.” The former Crow turned towards Isabela. “In the end, I was ready to get eaten by the Archdemon, should it have served to keep him alive, because he's been my first friend. The one who taught me what friendship. So, Isabela” Zevran smiled briefly “he's the reason why you're not here whimpering alone.”

“Ehi! I don't whimper, you asshole!” Isabela protested, punching him playfully on his arm. His smile, however, was fading away: in its place, a worried expression. Lowering her arm, she asked in a whisper “Are you the only one knowing where he is, Zev?”

The elf's growled response took her by surprise. Clenching his teeth, he admitted in a growl. “I don't even know if he's alive.”. 

There were torment and guilt in his voice. She knew, because she was no stranger to those emotions. She merely listened to him.  
“After the royal wedding, I remained at court for a time. I am an assassin, and if I had to serve anyone it would have been him. However, I left Denerim when a group of Crows managed to enter the Royal Palace and almost took the Queen hostage.”. Zevran exhaled, taking a pause. She knew the elf enough to know how much he hated failing at something. “They didn't want her. They were aiming to use her to force Dane's hand and have him consign me. So I left Denerim in order to keep him and the Queen safe. I had decided to eliminate the threat, so I started to take down the Crows one by one. That's what I was doing when we met in Denerim. However, I traveled back to Denerim from time to time, and I meant to stay once I managed to remove from the scene every... dangerous Crow. But he asked me to go on a search mission on his behalf, to find Morrigan.”

Curiosity got the best of Isabela. She had heard stories about her: that woman was considered one of the most powerful enchantresses, and someone even said she had been the Hero's lover. Now, according to some rumors, someone like her had been seen first in Orlais, then at Skyhold. “The witch? What could he possibly...”

Zevran angrily interrupted her, cutting in. “It doesn't matter anymore. All I know is that if I had remained in Denerim, perhaps I would be aware of his location and I would be able to help him with whatever his doing. Or at least” his voice decreased to a murmur “I would have been the one burying him, if he's dead.”

A gush of envy passed through Isabela. At least, he could still hope: after all, the Hero had shown everybody how tough he was to kill. But her? All hope was lost. Still, she swallowed that venom without snapping at her friend, because he was truly one of the few friends she had left and ultimately he didn't deserve that kind of treatment. And once she let go of her anger, a sense of loss filled her. She could talk freely, knowing that Zevran would have understood. “At least, you can still hope, Zev” she finally whispered. When he put his arm around her shoulder, she laid her forehead on his cheek. “I wish I had a chance to save Ryan. Sometimes I wish it so hard that in my mind he's still alive. I owed him, you know? When I was in Kirkwall... he was the first to care about me. To look at me as if I was more than a playful, slutty woman. He believed in me, even after I ran away with the fucking Tome. Ryan dueled with the Arishok for my life, for me.”. Isabela took a trembling breath before continuing. “Before he left for Skyhold he wrote me. He told me he sensed something off about all that Corypheus matter. Damn, I was by his side when the thing died. And still I didn't sail to Skyhold to help him.”

“My dear queen, if I didn't know better I'd say your words smell of love” the Antivan joked. Had anyone else tried that trick, Isabela would have smacked her interlocutor's face in a matter of seconds. Not his face, though. Zev knew how vulnerable she was to emotions, and he was fully aware of how a joke served in making everything easier for her. Silently, she thanked him. 

“So you're the love expert now, too?” she joked back. The smile on her lips, though, died almost immediately. “Four years ago I was falling for Ryan. He saw through me, and what he saw was a light I never suspected to have in me. I don't think he ever knew he was the one who had lit that light.” Isabela exhaled. In a weird way, taking those feelings off her chest was making her feel better. Without even thinking about it, she was confessing something she had never dared to give voice to. “It was impossible to not be convinced by him. He was so charismatic that everyone who was around him ended up believing the world could be a better place, inhabited with better people. And literally everyone could imagine being one of the good guys. At first, I considered him naïve, but then he convinced me too. It was then that I understood I didn't have to be what my life has raised me to be. I could choose.”

“After having seen you two together in Kirkwall, I had suspected as much” Zevran thoughtfully replied. “What are you doing in Llomerryn, then? Shouldn't you two...”

“I did what I always do. I broke his heart” Isabela sharply admitted. “I drove him away out of fear, right in Merrill's arms.” The memory of that break-up still haunted her lonely nights. At first, as the pain of a lost love; then, as the regret of having hurt a friend so badly. “Even after that, he didn't grow to hate me. After the crazy bitch's death I left Kirkwall, but I still got letters from him. Sometimes we even met, and eventually we became good friends. He's the reason why I started to actually care for the men under my command, and now we're like brothers. You know, his last letter...” she gulped “he wrote that to me. That he had never hated me and he appreciated me for who I was and who I had become.” Her voice filled with anger and sorrow. “It's a pity I wasn't there to save him from his blighted heroism. For once, he should have followed my way of life.”

“Mmh. And I guess you've become... Someone who welcomes under her wings whoever flexible enough for the smuggler's life but not willing to overstep certain morals? Someone strong enough to potentially overthrow that guy, Ianto?” the former Crow asked.

Taken aback, Isabela disentangled herself from his sort-of hug, staring right at him with a serious, annoyed expression. When she spoke, she used her 'Admiral' voice. “First question, who told you all this? Second” she smirked “don't give me that shit, my friend. We've both very different from Louis' wife and his killer.”

Zevran raised his hands in resignation, shaking his head. “Alright. Checkmate. The whole tavern was whispering about you and this Ianto guy, how you two are at the loggerheads because you question his conduct and he, being the big head of Llomerryn, hates to be questioned. Someone says he doesn't like you bringing the Inquisition on the island by working for them. Some smugglers said he keeps proposing you to partner up with him and you treat him like darkspawn's piss.”

“Because that's exactly what he is!” Isabela exclaimed, raising her arms to the sky in irritation. “He treats his men like cannon fodder and kidnaps young girls to sell them to fat nobles. He's a bloodsucker willing to have people die for only 20 golds more.”

The Antivan listened carefully, without betraying any emotion. And when she sat on a rock, he did too. “He's right on one thing, though. By working for the Inquisition, you give it the chance to poke its nose into Llomerryn business. Not now maybe, the Inquisitor has bigger fishes to fry. But one day...”

“He's a fool” Isabela interrupted him. Crossing her arms, she stated, “The Templars has fallen. All the Circles are either being annulled or rebelling. Ferelden's King has disappeared without an heir to assure a peaceful succession. If he thinks Llomerryn can survive on its own, he's a blighted fool.” Isabela sighed. “Look, as much as wish I never outgrew my old playground, I'm not blind. I can't go back to those days, none of us can. And now, our best gamble in keeping order around the world is the Inquisition.” She sharpened her gaze on him. “Enough questions. Answer one of mine. What are _you_ doing with the Inquisition? What about your reasons?”

As the elf listened to her explanation, he silently nodded in what she had come to know as agreement. But when she asked her question, she was rewarded with a glimpse of astonishment on his face. He didn't falter, though, not he went defensive. He calmly answered. “I thought that if someone could help me finding the witch, it was the Nightingale. But to be honest, Isa... I found her, but I lost him. I feel like the whole chaos our world has fallen into has infected me too. And I'm not sure that I will make the right choice when the time comes. That I will be able to adapt to the changes of the world and inside me. What if I never found Dane again? … After all, being the Black Shadow and a Crow was far easier. But I'm not even sure I can go back to that, Isa.”

Instinctually, Isabela offered him her and. She exhorted him “Come on. Up on your feet. I think I may just have the solution to your problems, a way that may show you your next step.” She smiled invitingly. And when he held her hand, she pulled him so near her that anyone who could be spying on them would have thought it was the embrace of two lovers. “Help me getting rid of Ianto and putting in charge someone worthy. It will be my last act here in Llomerryn.”

She felt his arm around her waist, a gesture that reinforced her pretense. That was why she had chosen him as a partner in crime for her swan song as a pirate: he was the only one able to predict her moves, whose mind completed hers. Apart from being an extraordinary fighter, of course. “I told you, that's what heroes and champions do. They change us” he whispered into her ear, his hot breath on her skin. But it was only after a brief pause that he inquired “And where do you plan to go?”

Isabela smiled, a real smile this time. Now she knew. “I'll catch up with Merrill, and I'll help her raise the son she and Hawke have on the way. My friends are the answer, I think you reminded me of that much today.” A trace of irony tainted her voice. “My mother would be quite pleased, don't you think?”

Zevran welcomed her answer with a short chuckle. “Well, it would certainly be quite daring for the Queen of the eastern seas to turn into a normal woman.”

Finally, in regaining her distance from the elf, the pirate replied with a certain amusement “I am the daring type, you know that. And it would be _the_ challenge for me. How could I back down?”


End file.
